


Upon an Eternal Moon

by ladyelori



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Gen, Journal Entries, i look away from asks, my word is now canon, no i do not accept criticism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyelori/pseuds/ladyelori
Summary: Fingers run over the worn leather-bound journal.There are words engraved into the cover, though it is so old you can hardly make it out.Miraculously, you do and it reads du Mortain.***Various entries from A du Mortain's journals.
Kudos: 9





	1. The Price of Immortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 31 days of wayhaven | day 15: grief

I started counting their deaths by centuries instead of years. Individual years become nothing once you lived nearly a millennium. Sometimes it feels like I blink, and a new year has already come.

Even so, it doesn’t make the events of the past any less painful for it is only the type of grief that changes.

When I was younger, I mourned my family’s deaths directly. I could remember every detail—their screams, their blood, the smell of burning flesh—but now they seem so distant to me. I can only remember fragments from my human life. Memories scatter across the floor like shards of a broken mirror, each holding a single piece of my past. 

There are instances where I think this pain is worse than when the loss was fresh. Other times I am thankful because I believe being haunted by vivid images of my loved ones’ death would drive me further into madness.

This is not often, however.

I can feel them slipping further away as time marches on.

And it hurts for there is a hole in the depths of my soul that cannot be filled.

I claw at the memories until my hands are numb and fingers bloody—and still, their faces are that of a ghost. I scream until my throat is raw but still, their voices have become my own.

Have I committed horrible enough deeds that deemed me unworthy to even remember my mother’s face or the sound of my father’s voice?

I am a sinner. I have done unspeakable acts. My hands have been drenched in blood more times than I can count. I will not and cannot deny this fact.

I am a monster.

But that does not stop my heart from breaking piece by piece.

Even though I hurt, I will harbor it to myself. I made this bed and I shall lie in it, no one else should be weighed down by the guilt I feel or the hurt that has become like a second skin.

I am ~~broken~~ ~~damaged~~ **weak**.

Who could care for a monster such as I?


	2. A Silent Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 31 days of wayhaven | day 18: empty
> 
> cw: religious trauma

This is not a prayer.

I will not kneel before a silent divine. I will not bow to a faceless entity who corrupts the minds of mortals. Not again. I will not be fooled by your deadly lies.

I was promised Paradise upon death. But what I have entered is the makings of my personal Hell. And it was done by your hand—I care not for the _sacred_ words spewed by holy liars.

They say all good is made by God, but all bad comes from mortals. 

I call you a liar.

You are a fraud. 

You have the blood of millions on your hands, and yet, people see you as the epitome of purity and virtue. You are put above the law. A faceless ghost made of the corpses of fools.

As a child, I was told I could not walk this earth without the light of God to show me the way. For your light was to highlight a path of purity and virtue, much as yourself. Instead I was led into falsehood. 

I have seen enough death to last ten mortal lives in the spam of my human years. 

I have felt the slickness of another man’s blood against my skin. 

I have tasted the wretched sanguine so much that my tongue can recall the taste in seconds. 

Is that your definition of virtue? Death? A battlefield so sodden with blood and piss that your boots sink?

I entered a church for the first time since I was turned. I knelt before the cross. I looked upon the face of your fallen son.

**And I felt nothing.**

I felt empty.

What was once lovely has turned sour for I can no longer stomach the sight of a cross without vengeance filling my heart.

I could feel the blood on my hands. Blood taken in your name—your falsehoods.

I cannot help but wonder if you relish in the sight of my suffering. 

You sit on your throne of stolen hope and **laugh**.

How many times do I have to tip my head back and scream at the sky where you pretend to be?

How many times do I have to curse your name until this void in my soul mends?

They say you shall strike me down if I continue to blaspheme and I await that day. For even if it means my demise, I shall know you exist and that my blame was not directed to a fable.


	3. Holy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 31 days of wayhaven | day 23: decay
> 
> A letter found in A du Mortain's journal.

My dearest,

They say that every dawn is a new beginning. That we should look forward to that sky dashed with red. But after you see a thousand nights turn into day, that hope begins to decay.

But you—you have made me look upon the lightening sky with hope in my heart once more. For it is not only the sun I see, but I witness your smile in the curl of the clouds and gaze in the radiant rays of light. The feeling that prevails me is nearly indescribable, but there is one that comes to mind.

_Holy._

You, my love, are light to my darkness. I tried for so long to turn away from it in fear of burning us both, yet here I am. I stand before you now, as Icarus did before, the wax of my wings now a puddle around my feet and feathers strewn behind me. Both terror and adoration fill my heart as I reach out to you for I cannot resist the alluring force of your pull any longer since I fear if I do not jump now, I will never have another chance.

My love, my life, my soul you own every inch of me.

I love you, and I will not hide it any longer.

I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at @seravadumortain


End file.
